Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

"You what?"

After facing the wrath of Haymitch for going against his orders, the second day of training is less stressful. So what if the Careers know you can throw a knife? You can always keep your knowledge of archery a secret. You likely won't get any better at the skill than you already are, and Katniss is much better at it than you—than you will ever be, likely—but at least you're a decent shot. But knives are still the one weapon that you know won't fail you when you need them. 

Now at the plant identification station with Peeta, the trainer points to an image on the board in front of you. "So, class, what is this plant? Tell me the effects as well." The board shows a dark blue berry, that you immediately recognize from your time in the forest. It's the berry you've always been taught to stay far, far away from.

Just as you're about to open your mouth and answer, somebody else spouts the answer from their mouth. It surprises you—you were reasonably sure no other district, maybe other than 11—knew much about berries. Or plants in general, actually.

As you suspect, when you turn to face the owner of the voice who answered instead of you, you find Rue, the young girl from District 11.

You fix your eyes on the small dark haired girl in front of you. She has a confident aura around her, even though you can see the nervousness written across her face. She can't be older than Prim is, and it infuriates you all over again when you think about how nobody volunteered for Rue. It goes to show you how selfish people can be—and not just the Capitol, in the Districts too.

The trainer stares at the girl, surprise and approval evident on her appearance. "Very good Rue, that's your 15th correct answer. You are the first I've seen like that in ages!" she praises.

Rue smiles slightly. "Thank you," she says quietly. You look at her and smile encouragingly, which she returns. Even in the midst of something as grim as the Hunger Games preparation, it's possible to find a little sliver of hope—even if it is just a congratulatory grin.

✜ ✜ ✜

You nervously tap the ground with your foot. This is a "big, big, big day!" as Effie would say. Your training assessment—done by none other than the gamemakers.

This is a make or break moment for both you and Peeta. It's a seesaw tipping between what score you actually want to get, and what you need. If you get a low score, you'd be considered low threat, but the odds of getting sponsors is slim. If you get a high score, you could get more sponsors, but it runs the risk of being considered a high risk and being taken out by the careers. The best plan of action is to aim for a middle score.

But you've resolved it doesn't matter. No matter what happens, you're prepared to survive on your wits alone, or the luxury of all you need. You made a promise to come into the Hunger Games, but you also made a promise to come back out. And it's not a promise you intend to break.

Everybody else has already gone into the room that houses the gamemakers—including Peeta. District 12 always goes last, as usual, just like with the parade.

Suddenly the doors to the room swing open and Peeta walks out, looking annoyed. You stand up just as he walks in. "Well, what happened?" you ask.

"They paid no attention to me," he shakes his head. "At all." Peeta sighs. "Anyways, you're next, so good luck."

You watch as he leaves the waiting room. Glancing down to your shaking hands, you wonder how many other tributes have walked through that door, and walked out with a good score. How many others walked out with a bad score. How many of those tributes with a bad score died. How many with a good score died. Who actually won? And then you wonder which kind of tribute you'll be.